


Relentless burden

by Liaeling



Category: Ancient History RPF, Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Dancing with the Lion - Jeanne Reames, Historical RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28610262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liaeling/pseuds/Liaeling
Summary: "He called him ‘his joy’ in his softest moments, and Hephaistion knew it to be sincere and true to his heart. He ardently, but quietly, shared the sentiment. But, unlike Alexandros, he always saw it for what it was. A heavy, irremovable burden that they would always be entitled to carry for each other. They would be each other’s joy as much as each other’s pain."
Relationships: Alexandros III of Macedon | Alexander the Great & Hephaistion of Macedon, Alexandros III of Macedon | Alexander the Great/Hephaistion of Macedon
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	Relentless burden

**Author's Note:**

> This story is completely in the “Dancing with the Lion” universe (again), more specifically in "Rise". It’s set in Athenai (after Khaironeia) right after Alexandros attends the symposium without Hephaistion and takes Kampaspe to bed to actually 'buy' her later. I took a small liberty and set the story at dawn instead of at midday, as described in the novel. This is a creative liberty without reason, I just liked the idea of them walking through awakening Athenai.  
> This story was born from my need to delve upon jealousy and doubt and a bit on “proper” attachments and Athenian “ideals”. The inspiration came after reading one of the extra scenes in Dr. Reames’ page, that's where the term of endearment came from... ("Moth & Flame": https://jeannereames.net/Dancing_with_the_Lion/moth_and_flame.html)
> 
> All names, places and transliterations are the same used in the novels.

“She is a pretty thing, although Kampaspe is not a pretty name. She is a bit too tall for you, but not disagreeable to the eye.”

He knew he was being childish and a bit over the top, but he felt raw and little, like someone had dragged him by the scruff of the neck and thrown him face down into the mud. He knew it would happen eventually but some small part of him wondered if maybe they could drag it long enough to somehow avoid it all together. He wasn’t about to admit it, but he couldn’t picture himself with anyone else. And the image of Alexandros sharing heat with another body made him sick.

Alexandros kept walking next to him, the early light of the dawn drawing a long shadow behind him, illuminating his face in a warm glow. He didn’t look different, neither did he appear disinterested in his words. He was the same as before, the same youth that had helped him bury his dearest horse after Khaironeia.

The smaller man suddenly stopped, turning around to look directly at him.

“She is not you,” he whispered, sunlight now striking him on the side and making his right eye look more transparent than blue, “She will never be you, neither do I want her to be.”

Hephaistion snorted, looking down at his feet, unsure of what he was feeling or why those words cut deep into him.

“You’re jealous without reason,” Alexandros said, foot stomping down lightly as he was prone to do when exasperated or impatient.

Hephaistion looked up, putting his chin out proudly while trying to hide the hurt in his eyes.

“I bet your father will approve,” he said simply, aware of the unsaid words that hung between them like a curtain. He saw Alexandros twitch the corner of his lip, brow slightly furrowing. He had catched the meaning behind Hephaistion’s words. The unsaid fact was too palpable to hang between them without them both acknowledging it.

_ Because your father does not approve of me. _

It was Alexandros turn to look down, sandaled feet fitcheting against cobblestones. The city of Athenai was awakening around them, the not too distant noise of the  _ agora  _ was rising in volume across the space. 

Hephaistion wanted to reach out and pull Alexandros to his chest. He wanted to remind him what they were to one another, how much touch mattered and not mattered at all at the same time. Alexandros had always been open with superficial displays of affection, but Hephaistion had found in time that deep emotional touch did not come naturally to the Prince. The inhibition came with his title and his past, being too aware of his station to engage in real touch. He simply wasn’t entirely attuned to his body, sometimes half aware of its needs and expressions. For him, whatever the body asked for was a nuisance and doing what had to be done with it was nothing else than a waste of energy.

Hephaistion wondered suddenly if he thought that about their intimacy, too. Could it be that Kampaspe was nothing else but his way of telling him that lust could be satiated faster with a woman kept for that specific purpose?

Alexandros stopped fidgeting and sighed, turning again to keep walking towards Xenokrates’ school. He walked slowly, making sure Hephaistion was following. Not a word passed between them as they crossed several paths and dodged traveling merchants on their way to the agora.

Finally, they found a deserted narrow alleyway that took them away from the more crowded trail but kept a parallel line to it. They walked side by side, brushing arms as they walked in the restricted space. The friction between their limbs made the hair in the back of their arms stand on end, creating a current between them not unlike lightning.

Abruptly, Alexandros stopped and grabbed his arm, yanking him hard enough that he had to take a step towards him to steady himself. He found his balance by supporting himself with his free arm on the wall next to Alexandros’ head. 

Alexandros stared at him, his face barely a handwidth away from his own. If anyone entered the alleyway, they would spot two youths that were apparently parting from a shared night between soft whispers. It wouldn’t be the first time a stranger read the energy between them as charged with so much more than esteem. 

“I don’t care what my father thinks is good for me or not,” Alexandros whispered in a hurried tone, gripping Hephaistion’s arm in a deathlike grip, “When it comes to issues of the sheets, he is the last one to speak wisely about them.”

Hephaistion snickered, making sure to express his agreement on the matter. Alexandros was always reticent on belittling people, including his father. The little boy in him wanted to see the best in Philippos, but the young man saw so much more.

“But I need you to understand something, _ ”  _ he continued anxiously. Hephaistion looked into his eyes, noticing a slight increase in his beloved’s breathing, “I need you to understand that I  _ have _ to fulfill certain expectations, quiet certain rebukes, and put on a mask for certain roles that I have to and will have to play for the rest of my life.”

Hephaistion slowly breathed out, suddenly wanting the crowds and the noise. This was it. Alexandros was about to tell him it was over for them. Their time was up.

A heavy silence fell between them as Alexandros released his grip on his arm and Hephaistion took a step back and fell back on the opposite wall. No sunlight fell upon the narrow alleyway, shrouding them in shadows and making it hard to read subtle facial expressions in each other’s faces, even at such a close range. Hephaistion tried to keep his expression neutral, fighting hard to keep his face from going hard and unreachable as he was prone to do when plunged in deep feeling. In the shadows in front of him, he could see Alexandros biting his lower lip, eyes downcast.

They were supposed to take the Sacred Band’s oath when they went back to Thebes. It wasn’t that long ago that Alexandros had practically begged him to take the oath with him. And now, in the middle of the city of philosophy and science, Alexandros had faced the hard truth.

He needed to consent to what others demanded of him for  _ them _ to love him. 

Hephaistion looked up, staring at the blue sky overhead. If only his love could be enough for him. If only he were  _ enough _ .

“ _ Khara mou _ …” he heard a soft whisper, the term of endearment Alexandros used rarely.  _ My joy _ . He had started using it during their summer at Mieza, back when they had discovered privacy could be found if they tried hard enough to find it. Those long days at the _ nymphaion _ , stealing looks across Aristotle’s work table, brushing thighs furtively as they sat next to each other in long lectures. The long waiting for lessons to end so they could find their spot close to the river to simply sprawl on the ground and talk. Those long days and long nights when all they had needed was each other, Court life too far away for them to care about was expected or accepted. 

Hephaistion closed his eyes, the blue of the sky turning to pale red behind his closed eyelids. The Prince had commanded the left wing and destroyed the Sacred Band of Thebes. The Prince had entered Athenai at the head of the column, asserting his power inside the defeated  _ polis _ . The Prince had attended a  _ symposium _ and taken a girl to bed and bought her, finally demonstrating his beardless face did not make him a boy anymore, but a young Prince.

What place was there left for him? Where did he stand next to the son of Philippos, now head of the League of Korinthos and most powerful man in all of Greece? He couldn’t be his  _ erastes _ , the Prince was past that. There was no path left for them in that road, they had come to a crossroads. A sacrifice must be made.

He opened his eyes and looked down, trying to adjust to the shadows once again. Alexandros was silent, eyes downcast. He was crying.

Hephaistion looked away, always a bit uncomfortable in front of displays of emotion. He felt as weak as Alexandros appeared to feel, but no tears came to his eyes. His hurt was as deep as an underground river, only after a long exploration in the dark could he find the wounded creature hiding underneath. Alexandros had always been open about his pain, like a bird with a broken wing, hopping in the ground and chirping away looking for help.

It broke his heart in two. His little bird condemned to the ground. He was supposed to fly, not limp his life away.

Hephaistion closed the space between them, breath sharp and painful against his chest. He enveloped Alexandros in his arms, pulling him towards him, afraid he might break if he pulled too hard. The Prince simply fell forward into Hephaistion’s arms, hands on his chest, face burying in his neck. 

They stayed like that long enough for Hephaistion to see the sun come slanting into the alleyway and light the wall in front of him. Alexandros’ tiny sobs had subsided, leaving only the trace of his tears in his neck, quickly dried by the Prince’s warm breath against it. Hephaistion had his back to the wall, supporting both their weight and enjoying the coolness of the plaster on his back. 

It would always be heartbreaking to pick up the pieces that Alexandros threw at him time and time again. It was his privilege and his curse, and his love mixed with resentment more than he cared to admit. Alexandros would always come first simply because he would always  _ be _ first. The scales would always lean towards him more, and it was up to Hephaistion to try and balance them as much as he could, or at least stop them from toppling over too often.

He called him  _ ‘his joy’ _ in his softest moments, and Hephaistion knew it to be sincere and true to his heart. He ardently, but quietly, shared the sentiment. But, unlike Alexandros, he always saw it for what it was. A heavy, relentless burden that they would always be entitled to carry for each other. They would be each other’s joy as much as each other’s pain.

“This changes nothing between us,” Alexandros whispered against his neck, warm breath tickling him, “I will not give you up simply because they expect it of me.”

Hephaistion let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Alexandros had stood at the crossroads and defied the gods. There would be no sacrifice today.

“I love you too much to give you up,” Alexandros said in a small voice, “I need you too much to yield to their demands.”

And yes, the burden also entailed keeping his great pride intact, giving him enough space to work his way out. This was where Hephaistion felt all limits blur, categories not wide enough to fit what they were to each other. Beyond the hierarchy, their relationship defied confinement. The powerful became powerless in front of the one below him. 

“We will go back to Thebes and pledge the oath,” he was still speaking in whispers, but he had now drawn back and looked up into Hephaistion’s eyes, pleading with his eyes, “And you will guard me and I will guard you, and everything else will be outside that. In our oath, there will be only you and me.”

Hephaistion smiled softly at him, looking down at his square face. The sun was now shining down across them, setting Alexandros’ hair alight, bringing out the reddish tints in it. 

They could never go back to their long summer in Mieza, neither could they simply pretend their world hadn’t changed around them. Hephaistion held in his arms the same innocent boy he had seen become a Young Prince, the same one who had learned to laugh without fear of rebuke and mastered the gift of commanding without shame for his dominance.

There was nothing he wouldn’t do for him. Even accept the burden of his love along with the freedom of his spirit.

He lowered his head slightly and closed his eyes, planting a long gentle kiss on Alexandros’ temple.

Whatever future awaited around the corner, he now realized it would be the same to him. Between two walls in an alleyway, he had found the courage to accept the choice he had made a long time ago, a choice that he now knew would shape the rest of his life.

He didn’t need to go back to Thebes to pledge an oath. The oath was taken. In his heart, there was no turning back now. 

He would follow where Alexandros led. To whatever end.

In darkness or in light. ‘Til he took his last breath.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been so bored. Two stories before the first week of 2021 is over lol  
> Comment and talk to me. 
> 
> So bored...


End file.
